Witches and Mirrors
by bioncafemme
Summary: A dark ritual performed, an Archdemon slain, and a relationship torn asunder.  A story of a hunter and his prey, of love and tragedy, of lust and betrayal.  Cousland/Morrigan, Cousland/Zevran
1. Chapter 1

**Witches and Mirrors**

**A Dragon Age Fanfiction**

**By Bionca Femme**

_Disclaimer: Bioware owns Dragon Age and its characters, all I own are the characters that I have made up._

**Chapter 1: **

* * *

Aedan pulled his heavy woolen cloak tighter about him against the biting cold, and scooted closer to the campfire. He then turned his attention on his traveling companion who was poking their evening meal with a stick as it roasted over their campfire. "Remind me again why I wanted to cross the Frostbacks instead of taking the Imperial Highway?" he asked and then clapped his hands together, trying to work some warm blood and a little feeling back into them.

"I believe you did not want to miss any clues our fair Morrigan might have left behind. Personally, I think I would have rather liked having warm toes over cold clues," Zevran drawled out. "But, you are the leader..." Zevran trailed off, his honey brown eyes twinkling in an 'I told you so' fashion.

"You know, I think its _your_ turn to be the leader," he grunted as he hunched down further into his travel cloak.

Zevran threw his head back and laughed. "Oh no, my friend. If _I_ were the leader,_ we_ would be in an obscenely decadent, lush, warm brothel, sipping Antivan brandy with soft and beautiful women. You, me, and many divine bosoms to pillow our weary heads," he shot Aedan a wink.

"Hmm, better a warm bosom to lay my head against than a frozen rock, but I can see where you might distract us from our mission. Very well, I shall lead," Aedan replied with a laugh.

"Must you break my heart so?" Zevran sighed theatrically and then pulled a bit of meat off the roasted wild pig and placed it on a plate. He handed it to Aedan who took it gratefully, thankful to have something warm in his hands.

Zevran took his own food and settled back onto the log he'd been sitting on. "So, where does Morrigan's trail take us, I wonder?"

"As far away from me as she can possibly get?" Aedan retorted bitterly.

"Now, now. I'm sure that is not the case. Although, knowing our lovely witch, she does nothing without a plan. I can't help but wonder what lies at the other side of these mountains that has peaked her interest," Zevran took a bite of his meat.

Aedan finished his dinner and then set his plate aside. He took out a map of Thedas from his pack and unfolded it, studying it quietly for a time. He frowned when he was no closer to figuring out where she could be heading than he had been only moments before, "The Dales lie on the other side of these mountains, and the Arbor Wilds. I think its safe to say that she'd want to avoid being near any Grey Warden stronghold, so anywhere near Montsimmard is out. I don't think she'd stop in the Dales... maybe the Arbor Wilds? She could lose anyone chasing her easily in there. Though its close enough to Ferelden that she might not stay there for long. To be truthful, I imagined she would take the boy to Tevinter. They used to worship the Old Gods there at one time, you know," he finished.

"You really believe she is heading there to revive worship of the Old Gods?" Zevran asked with a lifted brow.

Aedan shook his head, "No, I think that she'd be looking for as much information on them as she can gather. For all Flemeth's uncanny abilities, I can't imagine she had vast amounts of information at her fingertips about such things. Even if she had, I have my doubts that she shared very much of it with Morrigan. At least that's what I gathered from the greedy look in Morrigan's eyes every time I gave her a book of Flemeth's."

Zevran chuckled. "Ah, I remember that look well. As I recall she got that look mostly with books _and_ you. How I envied you."

Aedan shot Zevran a hard look.

"Ahh, not to worry, my Grey Warden. I envied her just as much. A pity you never asked me to join you both on cold nights," Zevran shivered for emphasis.

Aedan lifted an eyebrow. "Every night in Ferelden is cold, Zev," he got himself a second helping of the now slightly charred pork.

"Exactly!" Zevran grinned. "Which brings me to my next point. _Tonight_ is a very cold night..." he trailed off with an eyebrow waggle.

Aedan snorted and then tossed a blanket from his pack at the elf, hitting him square in the face. "Here, take that to bed with you."

Zev pulled the blanket away from his head, his hair a bit mussed from the impact, and clucked his tongue at Aedan. "Alas, another night where we go to bed with unresolved sexual tension."

"Only because my tension has nothing at all to say to yours," Aedan smirked and then popped the last bite of the pork into his mouth. He set the plate aside and then crawled into his bedroll still fully clothed and still wearing his cloak, the hood pulled up over his head. "Goodnight, Zev."

"Buonanotte, my friend," Zevran responded.

The next day Aedan awoke early, as he had every morning since the Final Battle. "No!" he shouted and sat straight up in his bedroll. He looked around hurriedly, finding himself exactly where he'd fallen asleep, with Zevran staring at him over the dying flames of their campfire.

He pulled his knees up to his chest and drew his cloak around him. "Morning," he muttered groggily.

"The same dream?" Zevran poked through the coals of the fire with a stick and looked up at Aedan expectantly. When Aedan nodded Zevran sighed. "We will find her, we tracked down the Dalish, the Werewolves, the Urn of Sacred Ashes...wherever it is that Morrigan has gone, she cannot hide from us."

Aedan gave the elf a non-commital shrug, wishing that he possessed even a tenth of the Antivan's confidence. Then heaved himself out of his bedroll and started packing up.

Zevran watched his friend for a time, saddened by the state he was in. Wherever Morrigan was, he hoped she was suffering just as much as Aedan was.

* * *

Morrigan awoke early to the sounds of the Wilds, it soothed her to know that though these were not the Wilds in which she grew up, their sounds were at least the same. The last mournful cries of an owl before it fell to slumber with the dawning day, the skittering of a nocturnal rodent near her hut, the first few tentative chirps of the starlings that inhabited the wood. The Arbor Wilds was vast and was nestled safely between The Dales and the Uncharted Southern Territories. It was not the farthest from Ferelden that she could have traveled, tis true. However, her foolishly loyal lover would be hard pressed to find her here. These Wilds held secrets, just as her Korcari Wilds did, and when she took animal form, those secrets became her own.

Thoughts of Aedan, as always, brought on bitter confusion, loneliness, regret, longing and anger. She tried in vain to harden her heart to him, to harden his to her by leaving after the battle with the Archdemon without so much as a farewell. The fact that the ring was still in Highever upset her. She cursed her own foolishness. Never would she believe that Aedan had simply slithered off to Highever to rule the Terynir. Duty bound or not, he vowed to come after her. The ring had been stationary for months and she sensed no emotion from it, which, to her could mean that Aedan may be unconscious or had left the ring in Highever. If the latter were the case then he had left it to come after her.

She pushed such thoughts from her mind and ran a hand over her rounding abdomen. Not bothering to suppress the small smile that pulled at the corners of her full lips. She had him still, however, did she not? Whether or not she ever saw him again, she had a piece of him with her always. She would teach the boy all she knew, love him as she had not been loved as a child, as Aedan would have wanted. Hopefully, once the boy reached his majority and the Old God's soul had awakened, everything would fall into place and she could...she shook her head. That would be sixteen years hence and until then, she had much to do. The least of which was hiding from Aedan and whatever form it was that Flemeth now inhabited. Even though Aedan had done what she bid and killed her Mother, there was no telling where Flemeth's spirit had gone, nor what form she now took.

Morrigan sighed heavily and rose from her cot. The room was dark and she shivered from the coolness of the small hut she had come to call home. T'was small and in need of repair, but it kept the rain out. Finding the place had been fortuitous indeed. She had watched the abandoned hovel for days in wolf form, waiting to see if it was indeed as abandoned as it seemed. On the fourth day she approached it and found t'was not as unoccupied as she first assumed...

_The wolf approached the hut cautiously, the small building appeared abandoned but even so, the wolf kept its head low and its muscles tensed. When it reached the door it lifted its nose to the air and sniffed. Death. Another sniff. Old death. The white wolf pawed at the door until the portal swung open and the creature padded softly over the threshold. The hut was a one room affair which held a table, hearth, wardrobe and a cot. On the cot, covered with webs and dust, lie a skeleton dressed in rags. The Wolf blew out a puff of air and sat back on it haunches, staring at the skeleton as if it believed that it would come to life. For several minutes, nothing happened. Finally the Wolf shifted, changed, lengthened, and finally turned into the figure of a woman with dark hair and golden eyes. _

"_Let us hope I fare better as the owner of this hut than you," the raven haired beauty remarked without emotion. She approached the cot and proceeded to wrap the bones up into the blanket they rested on, shooing away the spiders that crawled out of the vacant hollows of the skull's eye-sockets with a distracted flick of her wrist. _

_Eventually, she learned that the skeleton belonged to an elven apostate escaped from the Orlesian Circle in Val Foret. She read through his journal and found herself strangely angry on the young man's behalf. _

_His name had been An'len and he was from a Dalish Clan. He was captured by the Chantry at a very young age as his clan passed by Val Firmin. There was a raid on their camp and he was taken when a Templar witnessed the eight year old elven boy freeze a human raider trying to rape his Mother. He was taken from his family, and his clan, and sent to the circle. _

_After seven years of constant abuse and loneliness, he managed to escape before his harrowing. Terrified that the Templar's would follow him to his clan if he tried to reunite with them, he chose to flee to the Arbor Wilds, instead. A place that was said to be haunted by angry elven spirits, bitter over the exalted March that took the Dales away from the Elvenhan. He had lived in the hut for many years until one day he was bitten by a poisonous marsh-adder. A snake whose venom was resistant to healing magic._

_She buried him, as is the tradition of the elves and planted an ash tree over his remains. Wherever the elf's spirit now roamed, be it the Fade or the Great Beyond. Morrigan hoped that he was at peace._

–

Morrigan pulled on a mages robe, one that covered much more of her skin than the ones that her Mother had provided her with, and had just finished building her fire when there was a soft knock on the door. Morrigan sighed heavily, "Foolish child! Come inside before someone sees you!" she scolded loudly.

The door opened quickly, and a thin girl child with wild tangled dirty blond hair and brown eyes almost entirely too large for her face, scurried into the room and shut the door behind her. "Sorry Mistress!"

Morrigan rolled her eyes and gestured impatiently to a seat at the table and waited until the young girl sat down. "Have you the herbs I asked you to collect?"

The girl nodded and put the leather pouch she had been clutching to her narrow chest onto the table and then her hands dropped into her lap to fidget with the hem of her faded yellow dirt and grass stained dress. Morrigan grimaced. "Be still, child," she admonished.

"Yes, ma'am," the girl said quietly and clasped her hands together on her lap.

Morrigan opened the pouch and peered in at the elf root that the girl had collected. She plucked forth one of the roots and examined it. The roots had been severed from the stalk just as she had shown the girl, the cut made with precise care. "Satisfactory," Morrigan gave the girl a curt nod, pointedly ignoring the beaming smile the girl gave her. "Now, you will come here and you will help me to make the poultices. Soon you will be able to make these on your own. Once you are proficient at making them, then we will move onto the tea I've been sending home with you. You have been giving it to your Father before he goes to bed, as I instructed?" she asked.

By this time the girl was kneeling like Morrigan by the fireplace where Morrigan was grinding the root with a pestle and mortar. Evangeline nodded, "Yes ma'am."

Morrigan nodded, pleased with the information. Evangeline was from a small human settlement not far from the Arbor Wilds, perhaps a few hours walk to the North. Morrigan had first seen her playing by herself in a stream. As she watched, to her astonishment, the young girl had slipped. On her way down, in her surprise the girl froze part of the stream. No one but Morrigan had noticed and she quickly chided the girl for being so careless. The girl swiftly broke down into tears and begged Morrigan not to tell the chantry about her. Morrigan had been taken aback by the girls tears.

She cursed Aedan again that day, to have softened her so that the pleas of mere girl would affect her. Before she knew it she was talking to the girls father. A widower who had no one else but Evangeline. Morrigan convinced him that she could teach the girl enough in secret to hide her magic, in exchange, Evangeline would bring Morrigan any supplies she asked for, and any news from the outside world. That was over a month ago and Evangeline's Father had taken ill and hadn't been back to work in the mines for weeks.

"Papa thinks he's going to die," Evangeline said in a small voice.

"He may indeed," Morrigan conceded without any emotion. "Though I would hardly think he is an authority on such matters."

"He told me not to come back today," she said with a tremble in her voice.

"Foolish, stubborn Man!" Morrigan sighed in exasperation. "Does he not know that he needs someone to tend his illness?"

"He...he told me to stay here, with you," the girl said softly.

Morrigan stopped grinding the herb and looked up. The girl looked more gaunt and tired than when she was there two days prior. "Had you nothing to eat today?"

The girl shook her head. Morrigan huffed and put down the bowl. She then stood and crossed the room to the cupboard near the door. She muttered to herself as she rummaged around in it, before finally returning with a large chunk of bread. "Eat this," she commanded, thrusting the bread into the girls hands.

"Yes, Mistress. Thank you, mistress," the girl's voice trembled as she took the bread and started eating it quickly.

Morrigan frowned as she watched the girl devour the bread. "Did he cough up blood this morning?"she asked, trying to ignore the way watching the half-starved girl eat made her hurt inside.

The girl froze and then swallowed her mouthful of food. "Yes, Mistress."

Morrigan sat down beside the girl. "Then I am afraid that even if you go back with the poultices and the tea, he will be dead by the time you get there. You have my sympathies, child. Such as they are."

The girl nodded, tears prickling in her eyes. Morrigan stiffened, waiting for the girl to collapse into hysterical weeping. But to her surprise the girl wiped them away with the back of her arm and sniffled before popping the rest of her bread into her mouth.

"You can stay, if that is your wish. But I will not coddle you, nor will I mother you. I am expecting a child of my own, and you will help me when the time comes. In return, I will teach you that which you will need to survive," Morrigan watched as the girls brown eyes widened. She laughed inwardly, she was startled herself that she had made such an offer. Still, having the girl around would be as much a help as a hindrance. The girl was not without promise as an apprentice. So far she had even proven adept at simple elemental spells, showing an affinity for ice in particular. If she could be taught to cast healing spells then that would be a great advantage to Morrigan once her son was ready to be born.

"When you are done with that bread we will go to the stream and you will wash up. When we return we will then attack that rats nest you call hair. We may be Witches of the Wilds, but 'tis no reason to look the part," Morrigan said without looking at the child.

"Yes, Mistress," the girl replied quietly.

Morrigan winced. She had thus far treated the girl exactly how her Mother treated her. _"'Tis a weakness!" _she heard her own voice scream in her head and then as if in response, '_Love is not a weakness, Morrigan. Neither is kindness.'_ She could even almost hear him say it, the selfish bastard. If she concentrated she could even see his storm colored eyes regarding her with naked disappointment at the way in which she was acting towards the scrawny little girl. Morrigan sighed heavily. If she was ever going to be different from Flemeth, she needed to start now. She clenched her fists, fingernails digging into her palms. Annoyed at how much she must change to ensure that the cycle of neglect did not continue on and pass down to her son, she steeled herself for what she must now do.

"Evangeline," she said coolly.

"Yes, Mistress?" the girl had finished her bread and was now standing up, looking up at Morrigan with wide eyes.

"From now on, you may call me Morrigan, if you wish," Morrigan said, her tone softened as best she could manage.

The little girls wide eyes, widened further, even though such a thing would have seemed impossible. Then she smiled, her teeth surprisingly white in contrast with her dirty face, hair and clothes. "Thank you... Morrigan."

Morrigan made a dismissive gesture and then turned to rifle through a pile of rags and cloth she kept in one corner. On her way through the Dales she had stolen several robes from a traveling Merchant. It had not been difficult, showing up in wolf form she easily scared him away from his Wagon. She happily transformed back into her human form once he was gone, and grabbed as much as she could before speeding gleefully back into the darkness of night.

Finally after nearly losing hope of finding anything for the girl, she pulled out the smallest robe in the pile. It was a pale green and seemed to be of the style that elven female Mages preferred. It would not have fit Morrigan, but she took it because she thought she could have made something with it. It would be large on the girl but it would have to suffice for now. "Follow me," Morrigan instructed the girl and went to the door. She opened it a crack and looked outside and then shut it quickly. She handed the girl the clothing. "Now, I will transform, and you will wait here while I scent for intruders. When I am satisfied that all is clear, I will come back to fetch you. Do you understand?" she asked and when the girl nodded, she transformed into her wolf form and padded out of the hut.

* * *

"Maker's Breath!" Zevran swore up at the sky. "What is it with your country? If it is not snow, then it is rain, and when it rains there is mud! Honestly, does the sun never shine here?" he turned a half-hearted glare on Aedan.

"We aren't in Ferelden any longer, Zev. In fact, this is more your country than mine. We're in the Dales now my friend," Aedan pointed out with a grin.

Zevran responded with a derisive snort. "Somehow the knowledge that the elves were given a land that has nothing but rain and mud, by a woman raised in Ferelden _rain_ and _mud_, hardly surprises me!"

"What _are_ you talking about?" Aedan asked with a lifted brow, silently amused at the elf's theatrics.

"The _shaft_, my human friend. _The_. Shaft," Zevran replied. "My people have never been treated fairly and this proves it! Andraste might have freed us but she left us with a cold and unforgiving country!"

"At least it doesn't smell like wet dog," Aedan pointed out helpfully.

Zevran shot him an affronted look. "Of course not! This is the homeland of my people, after all!"

Aedan rolled his eyes at Zevran's dramatics. Oddly enough, he always thought that Zevran's dramatic tendencies were some of his better qualities. It reminded him a little bit of Fergus's wife, Oriana. Though he would never tell Zevran that he reminded him of a woman. He certainly wasn't womanish, well...other than his tendency to whine about not having comfortable accommodations.

"Ah," Zevran sighed. "I suppose that all my complaining means that I am homesick. It is the time of year for wine making in Antiva," he said wistfully and then turned to Aedan. "Do you ever miss Highever?"

Aedan nodded. "I do. The Waking Sea becomes like a living thing this time of year, violent and beautiful. I used to stand on the cliffs and watch the waves crash into one another."

"Ah, yes. The Sea, she is always a dangerous and exciting creature, no?" Zevran grinned from ear to ear.

"Like Isabella?" Aedan teased.

Zevran turned to Aedan with a smirk. "Exactly."

Aedan chuckled. "I admit that I envied you at the time."

"You could have come along, you know. I know that Isabella would have welcomed an extra set of strong hands at her helm," the elf waggled his eyebrows at him.

Aedan smiled softly and shrugged. "In hindsight, I should have perhaps. I did not want it to hurt my chances with Morrigan. If I had known that I never truly had a chance to begin with, however...well, things might have ended differently," he replied.

Zevran stopped in his tracks a suddenly serious expression on his handsome elven face. "Surely, you do not mean that. You love Morrigan, as foolish as it seems. You would not be alive if it were not for that love."

Aedan looked into the honey colored eyes of the shorter man dispassionately. "No, I wouldn't," he replied tonelessly and stalked past him.

Zevran stared after him open mouthed. Then he became angry at Aedan for wishing his own death. No matter the Witches methods, could he not see the gift she had given him? Was he so disillusioned with his life that he could not see where his being alive was a good thing? Zevran grimaced in determination and rushed to catch up with the Warden. There was only one way to deal with this situation...humor.

"I cannot help but notice, my Grey Warden. That you have steered the conversation away from joining the lovely Isabella and I as I navigated her 'helm'. I wonder if you have changed the subject because I would have pointed out that hers was not the only 'helm' that I was interested in navigating, yes?" Zevran leered at the young Cousland, who snorted.

"You would latch onto that, wouldn't you?" Aedan smiled and shook his head.

"Balk now if you wish, but I happen to know that deep below that lovesick exterior. Secretly you harbor an unrequited lust for me," Zevran chuckled as Aedan reddened and opened his mouth to refute Zevran's claims. "Ah, ah, ah, no need to explain. Zevran knows exactly how you feel! Poor man. Consumed with lust for my strong hands and pointy ears. You would not be the first," Zevran clucked his tongue sympathetically and then gave Aedan a knowing and prideful grin.

Finally Aedan laughed and shook his head, though much to Zevran's pleasure, the blush did not seem to recede. Perhaps his teasing was closer to the mark than he first assumed? "You're an arse," Aedan pointed out with a good-natured smile.

"And misery does not suit you," Zevran retorted, his smile wide and bright. "And if you continue to be so, then I shall have to employ one of my many talents to cheer you up," he teased.

Aedan held up his hands in surrender. "Ok...alright. I get it. No more bouts of self hatred or melancholy."

"I should hope not, otherwise I shall have to show you the sort of massage techniques one only learns growing up in an Antivan Whorehouse," Zevran winked.

* * *

**A/N: Woohoo! Witches and Mirrors is here! =D No beta as of yet, but Piceron was nice enough to tell me that this first chapter at least did not suck. If any of you are a little lost, visit Blight Tales and read the prelude, which is Chapter 2, entitled "Do not follow me".**

**I've been gone for awhile now. Cause that's what happens when I start a new job. And it's a dilly of a job too. Been working 45-50 hour weeks and have practically no time to myself. I know that it seems like I am starting things and then not finishing them, but I'm typing away on The Awakening. I kind of got stuck on how to advance the plot but I think I worked that out and hopefully by next weekend or sooner I'll have a chapter out.**

**Thanks for being really patient with me!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Witches and Mirrors**

**A Dragon Age Fanfiction**

**By Bionce Femme**

**Chapter 2: **

* * *

The trip to the small stream that Morrigan scouted out for bathing had been brief and cold. Consisting mostly of numerous attempts to instruct the girl on how to clean herself properly. A concept of which apparently entirely escaped the girls Father when raising his young daughter by himself. After which, they had rinsed the soap out of the girl's matted hair, twice. Morrigan used a spell to dry the shivering girl and instructed her to dress herself. The result had been quite entertaining, for when the light green robes were finally on the girl, it was apparent that they were entirely too large for her shorter arms, legs and thinner frame.

"You are most unhealthy," Morrigan clucked her tongue in disapproval, the girls protruding hipbones and ribs made it all too apparent that there were quite a few days in the past where the girl had not eaten.

Evangeline's cheeks flamed a bright red and she looked down at the grass beneath her bare feet. Morrigan rolled her eyes. "From now on child, you will be properly fed and clothed and you will learn to take better care of yourself!" Morrigan informed her, slightly agitated with how guilty she felt at making the child feel ashamed of her appearance.

The girl nodded. Morrigan huffed. "'Tis no use standing here when we could be doing something useful. Come, we will return to the hut. When we get there we will attempt to work the knots out of that impossible hair of yours."

Evangeline said nothing, and for that Morrigan was thankful. It was irritating enough to her that the girl smiled up at her with naked admiration. It made her stomach twist unpleasantly and amplified her guilty feelings. It surely did not help that Morrigan had no source to blame for the emotions. Was she not offering the girl a home, food, clothing _and_ tutelage? Surely those things alone were enough, were they not?

_'If you have to ask...' _a voice inside replied. Frowning, she swatted aside the urge to transform into a wolf solely for the purpose of growling. It pained her to restrict herself from doing so. However, shifting into her other forms was becoming increasingly difficult the further her pregnancy progressed. She had already lost her spider form, which was the farthest removed from her own species. Soon she would lose all other forms as well, until the child within her womb was born. And though the a child with the soul of an Old God was well worth the sacrifice, she still did not relish being unable to slip into animal form at will. This form of magic had, after all, been her only escape from her Mother's cruelty.

Pushing thoughts of her mother aside, Morrigan motioned for the girl to follow as an idea struck her. "Evangeline," she turned her golden eyed gaze down on the wide eyed child walking beside her.

The child looked back at her expectantly, and Morrigan couldn't prevent the amused twist to her pretty lips. "Tell me, have you ever dreamed of flying?"

Something sparked behind the child's eyes, an excitement Morrigan had never seen in the girl before. "Oh yes, ma'am! I would often lay in the hay field and look up at the sky. I would watch hawks circle overhead and swoop down to catch mice!" she smiled widely up at Morrigan and the Wild Witch found herself smiling back, although in a more subdued way. She could remember wanting to fly when she was a small girl as well. But those desires had been replaced after she had been punished by Flemeth for stealing the mirror from the noblewoman in the carriage so long ago. A bird did not seem fearsome enough after that. No, after that she desired to be other things. Other more powerful things.

"I could teach you to take on animal form, as I do. All it requires is sufficient will to do so," Morrigan looked the girl over carefully. "If you prove to me that you have the sufficient willpower, then I will begin your training. Until then, you must master many other spells," she favored the girl with a look that spoke of many long hours of practice and hard work, and expected the girl to look disappointed. But to her great surprise, the girls eyes only lit up further with excitement.

When they finally returned to the hut they hid in the bushes for awhile, watching to see if there was any movement within. Morrigan had left the door open and it remained open still. When she felt the appropriate amount of time had passed with no movement within or surrounding the hut, they moved out of hiding and quickly moved inside.

Once the door was shut Morrigan instructed Evangeline to sit by the fire while she fished out a hairbrush from an old pack that she kept under her cot. Once she retrieved it, she sat down behind the girl, who by this time was warming her toes by the fire and staring vacantly into the flames. She barely noticed when Morrigan attacked the tangled mass of hair on her head.

Morrigan worked as thoroughly and as gently on the girl's hair as possible. As it dried it became apparent to Morrigan that the reason that the girl's mane had become such a mess was that it was curly.

Without proper care it had stuck together most stubbornly into a frizzy, matted, mess. Once the dirt was removed and Morrigan worked the tangles out, however, she was relieved to find that it was at least not course hair, but soft once clean and brushed. It made setting the girl's hair to rights much easier. Morrigan let herself fall into the repetition of the task as she too let her gaze be drawn into the dancing flames. The trance was only broken when the girl yawned and her head bobbed forward and then back up again swiftly. "You must rest," Morrigan pointed to the cot and the girl turned to her with a quizzical look on her face.

"But, where will _you_ sleep?" she asked with a worried expression.

Morrigan frowned at the girls question and unwanted concern. "'Tis none of your concern where I shall sleep! You need only do what I tell you to," she scolded and tilted her head towards the cot.

The girl nodded finally in acquiescence and lifted herself up off of the floor, stumbling sleepily over to the cot before finally crawling up onto it and curling up into a ball.

* * *

Zevran shifted in his bedroll and grimaced at the twinge in his side. The night before he had painstakingly removed as many stones and pebbles from where he planned to sleep as he could. Much to his dismay, however it seemed that he missed one. He sat up with the intention of removing it. He let loose a string of Antivan curses that would have put any Antivan fishwife to shame and only stopped

when he realized that Aedan was missing.

Normally this would not be cause for alarm, but his friend had become increasingly melancholy since they left Fereldan. Days had turned to weeks, and those weeks quickly became a month and still, they were no closer to find Morrigan than they had been when they left. Over the weeks, the light in Aedan's eyes dimmed.

Zevran hastily found his sword and dagger and donned them, before setting off to look for his friend.

He didn't have long to look, he found Aedan in a nearby clearing, his head in his hands and his shoulders shaking. The sight made Zevran take an involuntary step back. Aedan was the strongest man he'd ever known, both physically and emotionally. Zevran had always marveled when he thought about how the young Cousland had lost nearly his entire family and yet despite that, he managed to unite Ferelden and organized the defeat of the blight. The young man was not afraid of anything or anyone, as clearly proven when he slew the Archdemon.

So now, looking at the broken figure of his friend, Zevran was at a loss. He could go to Aedan and comfort him, he supposed. But how was he supposed to do that? What could he say to the young Grey Warden that would sound anything but trite? He sighed inwardly and stepped forward, fully intending on only taking one step. But his feet seemed to disobey him and soon he found himself sitting next to Aedan. Aedan didn't seem to notice, lost to his grief as he was, that is until Zevran placed his arm around his waist.

The shaking stopped and Aedan stiffened under the elf's half-embrace. His hands pulled away from his face and the gray red-rimmed eyes looked up at him questioningly. "Zev?"

"Of course it is me, you were expecting a genlock to come snuggle up to you?" Zevran teased.

Aedan gave his friend a mock-glare. "Funny."

Zevran offered a smug smile, "Thank you."

Aedan sniffed and looked away. "Why am I doing this, Zev?"

"Because you love her," Zevran replied simply.

"I sometimes wish that I didn't," Aedan sighed and then lifted up a small object from the ground between his feet. "She gave me this, you know," he handed the object to Zevran.

Zevran took it and looked it over. "A mirror?" he looked up from the small gold hand mirror in his hand and gazed up at the young Cousland. The haunted look in his friends eyes made him want to shudder.

Aedan nodded. "She's enchanted it so that I may look in on her, if I wish. It only works once a day, though," Aedan growled.

Zevran nodded in appreciation of Morrigan's cleverness. "So that she may have time to move if you've figured out where she is just by seeing her, I gather? Clever woman."

"Too clever by far," Aedan spat bitterly. "I'll never find her at this rate. Right now she's in a hut somewhere. She's laying low. I've not seen her outside the hut for weeks. And she has a..." Aedan's facial expression turned from bitter angry and for a terrible moment, Zevran thought for sure that Aedan was going to say that he'd seen Morrigan with another lover. "...she has a young girl with her."

"Oh!" Zevran chuckled in relief. "Well that is not so bad, is it? Better a young girl than a dashingly handsome lover, yes?"

Aedan turned to Zevran with a look that made Zevran take his arm from Aedan's shoulders. "Given how Flemeth kept herself alive for centuries, Zevran?" Aedan's expression was one that Zevran could only describe as sickened and angry. "No. No, I think I'd almost have preferred to find her legs wrapped around another man, rather than to have learned this."

Zevran winced. "Surely this could be some sort of misunderstanding, no?"

Aedan shook his head. "You don't understand. All through the blight I thought that I knew her. I thought..." he shook his head and then gestured helplessly. "I killed Flemeth for what she was planning to do to Morrigan. Now Morrigan is about to do the same thing to that young girl. On top of that, my son has the soul of an Old God. What do you think she plans on doing with _him_?"

Zevran felt sickened at the thought. Morrigan, the Witch of the Wilds. She who had once told him that beauty and love were fleeting and without meaning. Power was all that mattered to her. Power had meaning. Looking back he realized that he'd always known she was up to something...

_Zevran purposefully waited until Aedan was out of earshot as they traveled to the Brecilian forest. His plan was to ,as always, to skillfully get under the raven haired beauty's skin. However, unlike usual, he found himself curious as to what her true intentions towards Aedan were. "So, I see that your friendship with the Grey Warden is progressing quite nicely..." he trailed off with a smirk._

_Morrigan turned her head in his direction, her golden eyes glittering with dark amusement as they met his tawny brown ones. "Is there a reason you say that with a smirk, elf?"_

"_Come, come. Do not think you can fool me, my lovely woman. I know what you are doing," Zevran practically purred._

_Morrigan snorted. "And what pray tell is it that you think I am doing? Besides the Grey Warden, that is?"_

_Zevran favored her with a charming and mischievous grin, only the dangerous glint in his eyes betrayed his true feelings. "Biding your time, naturally. But for what, I wonder?"_

_Morrigan huffed impatiently, no longer finding the conversation amusing. "Why don't you ask him, if you're so curious?"_

_Zevran chuckled darkly, "I doubt if even he knows. I am content to wait and see for myself, however."_

_Morrigan scowled at him, "Then don't bring it up again."_

"I am sorry, my friend," Zevran said quietly as the memory faded from his mind like wisps of smoke.

Aedan rose from the log they were sitting on and Zevran strained to look up at him. "Come on, we should get some sleep," Aedan muttered wearily, gesturing back to where their campfire and bedrolls awaited them.

Zevran followed after Aedan, his eyes lingering over the Grey Warden's large frame, watching the play of muscles through the cotton shirt he wore. He swallowed thickly when he realized that he was starting to feel more than pity for his poor friend. The blight had proven to Zevran that Aedan was dangerous and strong. Many times over the time they had spent together, Zevran had coveted the young man and his strength wanting to take him for his own. To engage him in a dance of wickedness and fire. Now that the blight was over, that strength had been broken by the one woman Aedan had ever loved. Now, it was up to Zevran to be the one man that could put Aedan back together. That thought both angered him and gave him hope.

* * *

"Again!" Morrigan ordered, her beautiful porcelain face expressionless and cold as she watched the girl struggle with the fire.

Evangeline held out her hands, her fingers weaving in the complicated patterns that Morrigan taught her. Her large eyes narrowed in concentration and a wrinkle formed on the bridge of her nose. Sweat soon began to bead on her brow and her curls began to cling to the sides of her face. Still, the fire defied her and the young girl let go of her concentration, gasping for breath. "I can't!" she whimpered.

Morrigan folded her arms and narrowed her golden eyes at the girl. "If you could not, I would not have wasted my time trying to teach you. You can do this. You _will_ do this," she said firmly.

Evangeline fidgeted with her hands, her face still blotchy and sticky looking from the amount of exertion she had spent trying to bend the fire to her will. "I'm not like you," she said forlornly.

Morrigan's dark eyebrows drew together, "Of course not! Don't be foolish. I am not expecting you to be anything like me. Nor would I want you to be."

"But," Evangeline sniffed. "You're a powerful mage and you don't need anyone to help you."

"'Tis not something that I wish on you child. To never need anyone," she awkwardly maneuvered herself so that she was sitting down on a log, burgeoning belly preventing her from doing so with grace, and gestured for the young girl to sit next to her. "Come, sit by me."

Evangeline sat down next to her, her hands in her lap where she fidgeted away.

Morrigan frowned, "Stop squirming."

The little girls hands ceased their movements and she looked up expectantly at Morrigan. Morrigan reached out and brushed a golden curl out of the girls face, before sighing. "Tell me, what do you know of the legend of Flemeth?" she asked the girl.

The girls eyes grew excited. "She's a witch that lives in the Korcari Wilds. Mama always told me that she had many daughters and that she ate them."

Morrigan let out a startled laugh. "Perhaps, in a sense she did. What would you say if I told you that Flemeth was my Mother?"

The young girl's eyes widened. "No!"

Morrigan laughed again, this time it was a bitter and hollow sound. "Yes. Flemeth was my Mother. Or at least she raised me. As for the story of her many daughters, she didn't eat them. She possessed them, taking their bodies for her own. Much like the demons of the fade."

"That's horrible!" Evangeline exclaimed, though her facial expression betrayed how fascinated she was by the story.

Morrigan nodded, "'Tis horrible indeed. However, I was able to escape, thanks to the help of a very brave man. Had it not been for him, I would not be here." Her right hand went to the roundness of her belly.

"Was he the baby's Papa?" Evangeline asked timidly.

Morrigan frowned. She didn't want to talk about Aedan, but she found herself nodding nonetheless. "He is."

"Why didn't he come with you?" Evangeline asked.

"Because we cannot be together," Morrigan huffed. "No more questions! My point is that Flemeth weakened me by teaching me that the only one I could count on was I, and I alone. I would not be here now if I had tried to defeat her on my own. As it was, it took two Grey Wardens, a Golem, and another Mage to defeat her," she held out her hand and fire danced along her fingertips. "You _can_ learn this and you don't have to do it alone."

Evangeline watched the fire in Morrigan's hand for a few moments before she took a deep breath and stood up and then walked back over to the small campfire she had been working with. She held out her hands and began the finger movements again.

Morrigan watched from the log, a small smile on her face. A smile that faded as a familiar tingling sensation washed over her. Aedan was watching her again, her hand went to her belly as she watched Evangeline, knowing that he would see the young girl in the mirror, as plainly as he saw Morrigan. She only hoped that he had faith in her enough to realize that she would not do to the young girl, what Flemeth had done to her.

* * *

Magistra Verina knelt at the feet of Archon Megas. He held out his hand to her and she took it, her lips brushing gently over his knuckles. She remained on her knees, even after he withdrew his hand from her grasp.

"Verina," the old Archon's voice was a hiss that echoed throughout the Cathedral-like Grand hall of the Imperial Palace. "You have brought me news of my Witch?"

Verina closed her eyes, "No, excellency. We lost track of her once she entered the Arbor Wilds."

The only warning Verina had before she was sent flying by a burst of raw mana was the faint whisking noise of the Archon's robes over the stone floor. "Failure is unacceptable! You will bring her to me!"

Verina staggered to her feet and then fell again to her knees. Her long brown hair came loose from her plait and brushed the floor at her knees. She kept her eyes on the floor before her, mindful to keep her eyes from rising to meet those of the man that had raised her. Blood dripped onto the floor near her sapphire colored robe and she touched her face, a familiar resentment welling up inside of her when she that the force of his magic had bloodied her nose. "I will not fail you again, Father."

A satisfied hum emanated from the aging Archon. "Good. Now go."

She rose, giving only the smallest of bows before she turned on her heel and strode towards the doors. She held her head high and kept her pace steady, showing no sign of fear as she retreated to see a healer. It was likely that the bloodied nose and the headache that she was now suffering signaled a head injury that would need to be addressed by a healer. After which she needed to find this hedge witch and bring her to the Archon. Being his daughter would only save her from his wrath for so long.

* * *

**A/N: And here it is, a whole weekend later than I said it would be. I give up on making deadlines for myself. I've come to realize that the job that I have now is sucking out my soul. It's too bad I'm not good enough at writing to make any money at it. =( That and I suck at grammar, I always have. **

**As a response to the last reviewer- Mike: Loophole? (Looks back over it) Well, I suppose I can see where you would think that. Aedan finished his plate and then set it aside to look at the map, and then a bit later he gets a "second helping" and then finishes that... I dunno. Maybe some different wording would make it seem less like a loophole? I am open for suggestions.**

**Maybe there is just too much pork eating. Aedan should just give up pork, for Andrastian lent. That way there is no more Aedan-pork-eating-loopholes. I hereby call for an Exalted March on Pork! Muahaha!**

**Thanks for pointing that out for me though. I appreciate it. I am not sure that I will be doing a chapter replacement any time soon in order to fix it. Maybe perhaps when it's done.**

**As always, thank you to my reviewers. Your kind words, suggestions and helpful hints make me a better writer and give me the courage to go on.**


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